


Japanese For Dummies

by Daegaer



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Gen, Humor, Japanese, Language, Psychic Abilities, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagi is the world's worst language teacher. Or possibly the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Japanese For Dummies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/gifts).



> For [](http://lady-ganesh.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lady-ganesh.livejournal.com/)**lady_ganesh** 's prompt, _Crawford is taking longer to learn Japanese than he should. Nagi is recruited as his tutor. Set in 1997._

Things were, Crawford decided, not going to plan. It should have been relatively simple – he would set aside a certain amount of tine per day for formal study in a class setting and reinforce it with self-study sessions and periodic review of vocabulary flash cards. This would lead, within a sensible and reasonable amount of time to him being possessed of a new language and therefore suited to lead his team in the demanding, intense – and, as Schuldig continually reminded him – porn-rich environment of Tokyo. Instead, he found himself _procrastinating_. He put off completing the language exercises, finishing them in a hurried, untidy panic bare moments before the next class was due to start. He did anything - _anything_ \- rather than study in his own time. He scrubbed his quarters from floor to ceiling, did his laundry every day, did _Schuldig's_ laundry and, finally, found himself completely addicted to various television shows he would never have watched under any other circumstances.

"What the hell are you watching?" Schuldig asked, looking askance at the TV. "And how did you get the set to pick up anything so clearly not censored for stupidity? Not even non-psychics can watch that sort of thing without damage you know."

"It's called _Expedition Robinson_ ," Crawford said. "It's really quite interesting from a psychological point of view; I think Rosenkreuz had a hand in designing it. The teams are shipwrecked and have to compete against each other and themselves in a variety of tasks and ordeals, while still remaining popular enough not to be voted off by a secret council of their peers at the end of each episode."

"You actually believe the words coming out of your mouth," Schuldig said in awe.

"Don't read my mind."

"When was the last time you saw the outside world? Crawford, this thing's in _Swedish_. Which you don't speak."

"It's a Germanic language, I'm picking it up," Crawford muttered, trying also to pick up X-Ray vision and see through Schuldig to the deliberations of that week's island council.

"We're supposed to be picking up Japanese," Schuldig said, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV. "Don't even think of fighting me for this, we're practicing Japanese before we get executed for disobeying orders. Don't think they won't kill us for wasting time and resources. So, _Konnichi-wa, Crawford-kun, genki da?_ "

"Crawford- _sama_ ," Crawford muttered.

Schuldig sniggered at him. _In your dreams._ " _Dame da_."

"We're being taught to use the polite forms," Crawford said in irritation, "Why aren't you using them?"

"Because I'm talking to _you_."

"Oh, go away," Crawford said sulkily. In Swedish.

 

* * *

 

"I've solved your problem!" Schuldig said the next day, skipping in and getting in the way of Crawford's marathon of Rosenkreuz's entire collection of the _Ricki Lake Show_. "It's so simple that even you should have thought of it – I'll telepathically change your brain so you either _want_ to study, or so it's easier for you to absorb a new language. That one might be a bit trickier, but I read a book on the theory. Well, the introduction to the book, anyway."

"I'd very much prefer you didn't," Crawford said, sliding the safety off his handgun with an audible _snick_.

"No?" Schuldig said in wounded innocence. "You're spurning my generous offer of help? Well, in that case it'll have to be Option B. I give you –

Crawford felt a premonition of impending doom. He also felt a premonition that it was time for _The Young and the Restless_.

" – your very own full-time native speaker!" Schuldig finished triumphantly.

A skinny young boy slunk in and stared at them both in adolescent hatred.

"I get paid for this, right?" he said in German.

"Sure," Schuldig said in the way that Crawford knew from deep experience meant that _he'd_ be paying. "Crawford, you remember Nagi, don't you?"

"Vaguely," Crawford said. "You're taller."

" _Duh_ ," Nagi said. "It's been _years_. How come you still can't speak Japanese? I learned German _and_ English. And programming."

"It's harder to learn new languages as an adult," Crawford said. "Anyway, I'm not justifying myself to a kid. Schuldig, put him back where you found him."

Schuldig and Nagi both crossed their arms.

"You're right, he _is_ a lazy bastard," Nagi said. An evil light – not quite a smirk, Crawford thought, as that was probably too much effort for the teenage body to produce – came into his eyes as Crawford reached over from his position on the couch to try to box his ears, and instead bruised his hand on air turned as solid as stone. "I've been assigned as your personal tutor, so I want some respect. For a start, you stand up when I come into the room."

Crawford decided the potential pleasure of boxing Nagi's ears was worth risking another bruise to his knuckles. It didn't work, which he foresaw a split second too late. He grumpily stood and imagined feeding the kid into a wood chipper. Schuldig smiled beatifically.

"I knew you'd get along! OK, _I'm_ off to class. You two have fun, and I'll see you both later. Oh, and Crawford? He's staying here. Bye!"

_I will end you,_ Crawford thought after Schuldig's departing back. _You hear me?_

All he got in reply was a snort of telepathic laughter.

 

* * *

 

"I'm not watching all of _Sailor Moon_ ," Crawford said.

"You mean, _Excuse me, let's watch_ Sailor Moon _, Nagi-sensei_ ," Nagi said in helpful, slow Japanese, "and then you bow –"

Crawford grimly kept silent as Nagi's telekinesis forced him to do just that. The first of many videotapes floated over to the machine and inserted itself carefully.

" – and then you sit down and watch it from the beginning. After you've heard the theme song a few dozen times you can sing it to me."

Several episodes in, Crawford realized he was beginning to learn the theme song. He sighed. The art style really wasn't his thing, but at least there were girls in very short skirts. He looked suspiciously at one pair of girls who seemed to be extremely fond of each other.

"Are they family members?"

"No."

Presumably Nagi would explain things to him eventually, Crawford thought, but at least he wasn't actually being made to study. If he tried hard enough he might even be able to get as addicted to anime as he had been to reality TV and soap operas. If nothing else he might get hypnotized by the bright colours.

By nighttime, he had almost perfected his plan to horribly kill Nagi and evade punishment for murdering a trainee without permission.

"I get the bed," Nagi said. "And I get the supply of chocolate Schuldig says you have stashed under it. We've missed dinner anyway. You should experience sleeping on a futon."

"I don't _have_ a futon," Crawford said, "and the chocolate's mine."

"Sucks to be you," Nagi shrugged. "Sleep under a coat or something. The couch is off-limits."

Screw evading punishment, Crawford decided, the brat needed a bullet to the brain. He took careful aim, right between Nagi's eyes, waiting for the moment his precognition would tell him the little shit's concentration was about to waver, allowing a microsecond of opportunity for a bullet to get through his telekinetic shields.

"Why are you even bothering?" Nagi said, sounding extremely bored. "You know it's not going to work, and then I'll be forced to crush your gun into a handy matchbox-sized rectangle as an object lesson, which will mean that you either get in trouble for losing an assigned piece of equipment, or you're out a great deal of money, if you got it yourself. And if you _do_ shoot me, you are in _such_ shit – and not only will you face re-education at the very least, but Schuldig will tell you his opinion of your stupidity day and night until you cry like a baby."

Crawford reluctantly lowered his hand. Nagi smiled ever so slightly.

"Now," he said, "let's learn how to say all that in Japanese!"

 

* * *

 

"You're looking well," Schuldig said at lunch, a day and a half later. "You're even out in company! Don't eat the Knödel, by the way, rumour has it the filling's made from the last team that pissed the Elders off."

"I need the protein," Crawford said dully, filling his plate.

"Ohhh-Kay," Schuldig said, looking at the growing pile of dumplings with interest. "You can tell me if it tastes like chicken or pork." He led the way over to a table and looked round the dining room. "So how are you getting along with Nagi? Where is he, anyway?"

"He's given me some time off for good behavior," Crawford said, cutting a Knödel in two and stuffing it into his mouth. God, he was _starving_. "Overcooked," he said indistinctly, and, "needs salt." He thought about it as he ate another two. "Pork," he said finally.

"Cool," Schuldig said. "How's the Japanese coming along?"

"I've watched a practically infinite number of episodes of some asinine anime, I'm sleeping on the floor to simulate sleeping on a futon –"

"Great! A lived, immersive experience!"

Crawford brandished a Knödel an inch from Schuldig's nose. "You want one of these stuck up your ass? _Now_ he's got me reading a God-awful kid's manga about a robot cat from the future. At least almost all the kanji have hiragana over them."

He had never, he thought, fully appreciated how damn _infuriating_ Schuldig's grin could get when the bastard really tried.

"Come on, Crawford, it's just a comic book. How bad can it be?"

" _Forty-five volumes_ bad. I sincerely hate you for this, I just want you to know that."

Schuldig laughed, a lot. Then he reached over and stabbed one of Crawford's Knödel with his fork and took a bite. "I have to know," he said with his mouth full. He grimaced and took a hasty swig of water. "Oh, _Christ_ , that's gross," he said. "It really _does_ need salt."

"Told you," Crawford said, and sighed as Nagi appeared in the doorway, beckoning him. "Back to the robot cat. See you around," he said in Japanese.

 

* * *

 

"Remember, you've got to have a basic card, Crawford-kun. Do you have one?"

"Can't you call me _-san_?"

"No."

"Erm . . . I don't have a basic card. So I re- re- . . . damn it! I do the cards again, right?"

"You _re-shuffle_ , yes. And I get an extra card because you're making me wait - oh, _niiiice_."

Crawford looked at Nagi wryly. "You're a lot less poker-faced when you're salivating over collectible merchandise, you know that?"

"Whatever. Play a card, Crawford-kun, gotta catch them all!"

This was – weird, Crawford thought. He was playing some stupid card game with a kid half his age who seemed to speak sarcasm as his true native language and it was, well – it was sort of fun, if he was honest with himself. He hated being honest with anyone else, but he tried not to lie to himself if he could help it, and this was – weird but amusing. Way better than actually studying, that was for sure. Nagi started giving his pokémon energy cards and sniggered.

"You are so dead next round," he said in a sing-song voice.

Crawford narrowed his eyes. It was time to get _serious_.

Their battle came to an abrupt end thirty minutes later when Schuldig strolled in and strode over to open the curtains. He peered down at the table and sighed in what was, even for him an excessively dramatic manner.

"I've barely seen you for almost three weeks, and now I find this? I didn't actually expect you to turn from a shut-in to a full-on nerd, Crawford. What's next, D&D?"

Crawford carefully edged the box of multi-sided dice out of sight with his foot. He felt rather foolish, and envied Nagi the unending depths of teenage ennui that allowed him to roll his eyes and gaze at Schuldig as if he were seeing the last of a once great species of dinosaur impotently creak its way across the hostile new world of young, bored mammals. Schuldig gave him an annoyed glance.

"Thank you, my joints don't creak, and I am most certainly not impotent."

"You might as well be, seeing as you dye your pubes," Nagi said in hideously crisp German. "How can anyone ever stop laughing long enough for you to actually get laid?"

Schuldig stared at him. "How do you kn – what are you talking about?" he snapped.

"I had a good look the last time we were at neighbouring urinals," Nagi said, as if he were commenting on the pleasant quality of the weather. He frowned a little at the way both Schuldig and Crawford were regarding him with horror. "What?"

"That's not really good bathroom etiquette, Nagi," Crawford said faintly.

"Ehh, you'd be surprised at what being a kid lets you get away with."

"Could both of you stop thinking about my pubic hair? Because that'd be just _great_ ," Schuldig said, clearly aiming for _nonchalant_ but landing squarely on _still horrified_. "Jesus, Crawford, I didn't say think about it _more_."

"Don't read my mind," Crawford said, doing his best to think of other things. He determinedly didn't meet Schuldig's eyes, which was made a lot easier by the way Schuldig was avoiding _his_ gaze too.

"Believe me, I'd really like not to," Schuldig muttered. "I'm going back to the real world - you two can just nerd it out by yourselves. Let me know when you get tired of playing kiddie games, Crawford."

"I thought he'd never go," Nagi said, switching back to Japanese, as Schuldig made his retreat. "Now, I was going to –"

Crawford looked miserably down at his cards. Things seemed different now that he'd been forced to look at them through the eyes of someone older. It was a sad day when Schuldig got to be the voice of adult sense and reason, he thought.

"Maybe he's right," he said. "It's not that this isn't an amusing way of passing the time, but is it really relevant?"

"I'm not sure, do you think being able to discuss methods of apparent paranormal attack is relevant?" Nagi said waspishly. "Or actually being able to read? I mean, if you do have some cogent critique of my pedagogical methodology, feel free to express it, by all means."

Crawford blinked at him, and then belatedly processed the fact that he had understood terms like _pedagogical methodology_ in Japanese. "Um," he said.

"Or," Nagi said sweetly, "we could play cards." A real smile crossed his face as he added, "And you can congratulate me on the fact that Rosenkreuz paid for all of this: the game, the videos, the manga, everything. Oh, and, seeing as you've been making good progress –" A box floated its way to the table. "Have some Pocky, Crawford-kun. I have missed this so much . . ."

Crawford took two sticks and looked at him in awe. "Was it expensive?"

"Have you _seen_ the postage from Japan?"

Crawford laughed, and picked up his hand of cards. This kid was rude and obnoxious, and had a problem with authority. And he was _smart_. He liked him, and in a couple of years he'd be an operative any team would want. Crawford didn't need precognition to see that.

"You know we're being sent to Japan?"

"Yeah, that's kind of why we're doing this."

"Do you want to come with us?"

Nagi went quiet, then shrugged, bored teenager again. "I'm too young."

"There are precedents for people being assigned early. You could get all the Pocky you want." Crawford had a sudden brief flash of Nagi setting an electronic timer on explosives, the posters on the wall behind him all in Japanese. Someone was leaning on the table watching him, though all Crawford got in the quick vision was a glimpse of the man's hand and arm – from the scar on the forearm, he knew it was Schuldig.

"I'm certain I can get you on my team," he said. "If you want it."

"OK," Nagi said, and suddenly grinned. "First though, I believe my pokémon was kicking yours to Kingdom Come."

"We'll see," Crawford said genially. He decided not to mention that his flashes on Nagi's cards were a lot more useful now that he was actually consciously aware that he could read what was written on them.

There was, after all, still a place in the world for age and guile. And outright cheating.


End file.
